


How Slade Gets Punched in the Dick Vol 4794

by siltscribe



Category: Rover Red: Alone in Apocalypse
Genre: Gen, Other, punchsladeinthedick2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-11 10:31:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10462881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siltscribe/pseuds/siltscribe
Summary: There's ... really no summary that does this justice.I recommend curling up under a Boothworld desk with your favorite bagel to enjoy this story.





	

  
  


“Wakey wakey…..”

 

Slade rolled onto his side, pulling the blanket Harrow had _graciously_ given him over his eyes. “No.”   It was still daytime, from the light peering in from outside the shuttered windows.  No one, and nothing, aside from Death itself was going to get him up at this hour.

 

“No what? I haven’t even asked you a question yet. Get up!!”

 

Slade kicked at the voice- feeling his foot connect. Instead of the solid, human body he expected, his foot made contact with something small and light, and heard a faint thud as it hit the wall across the room.

 

“OWWWW. That wasn’t very nice. But on the plus side, now I have these little birdie friends flying around my head. Maybe I should name them.  Clyde…. Annabell….and Jim! No… that’s silly….why would only one be a girl?”

 

Even with the light coming through the shutters, the room was very dimly lit, and he couldn’t quite make out who or what was in his room. He had expected Harrow, but… the voice didn’t fit.  And Harrow would definitely not have taken being kicked across the room lightly. In fact, he thought, grimacing, he was lucky it wasn’t Harrow, or he doubted he would even be alive long enough to be having these thoughts.

 

“I’m sorry… who exactly, are you?” Slade scratched his head, glancing around the small room. If it had been Harrow, he wouldn’t have needed to ask. But who else would be in his room that wasn’t trying to kill him? Not to mention the fact that no one in Apocalypse ventured out during the day, for fear of the silt that ran rampant. He wasn’t sure what to think.

 

Leaning against the far wall of the room, was a small per.. A small _creature_?  Whatever it was, it was small, rounded, and very, very pale.   The more he looked at it, the more it seemed... familiar?  It reminded him vaguely of Nightshade, but at the same time, it didn’t look anything like it.   Sitting next to it--

 

“Her.”

 

“Ex..cuse me?” Slade sat up further, eyeing the small cat-like creature.

 

“Her. You were calling me an “it.” I’m telling you, I’m a “her.” See the bow?” She motioned a small hand in the general direction of her head, indicating the small red decoration sitting on the edge of her hood. “I know, it’s a stereotype… but. Let’s face it, sometime the shoe fits. Anywho - don’t let me distract you from your internal monologue. Please, continue! I do believe you’ve gotten to the best part!”

 

Slade just stared, trying to keep his chin off of the ground.

 

“Go on, “ the small feline urged, pulling some popcorn out of… a pocket? A purse? He wasn’t entirely clear. But she definitely had popcorn, in a tiny pink bucket, and was eagerly munching it as she and her …. companions…. settled back into an.. Inflatable couch?

 

“What the _silt_ is that?!” Slade rubbed his eyes, reopening them again, in hopes that things made more sense.

 

They did not.

 

The weird little trio was still seated on a small, glittery pink couch that seemed to be made of plastic? Whatever it was, it hadn’t been in the room when Slade had gone to sleep - and he was 99% sure that it hadn’t originated in Apocalypse.

 

“Ooooookie dokie then, if you won’t finish your thought-- then I’ll do it for youuuu!” Popcorn flew through the air as the tiny, yet adorable kitty flailed.  “On my right- from the wonderful country of France -- is Fox! Isn’t his fur coat just FANTASTIC. On my left, and sir- do try your best not to get distracted by the luscious leaves of .. well.. Leaf.” She leaned forward and pretended to whisper. “It’s not a particularly creative name… but she’s shy. So don’t mention it.” Winking, the kitty sat back, and returned to her psuedo-announcer voice. “And SOMEWHERE in your room, is my pet Sashimi. No, I know what you’re thinking. He’s not a fish. He’s a statue.  Actually, if you could make sure we remember to find him before we leave. I’m a little afraid that Joelene might keep him if he wanders into wherever she happens to be….”

 

Twitching her ear, the tiny figure held out the popcorn to Slade, who found his composure long enough to wave it away.  Shrugging, she munched on her popcorn a bit longer, mumbling something about it being better if it were pink, then refocused her attention on her speech.  

 

“OH, that’s right. I didn’t introduce myself! I’m so sorry. A thousand pardons! I will eat blue bagels for a week in atonement.  My name, is BatCat.  And, we need to talk.”

 

Slade tilted his head to the side. _Batcat?_ He wasn’t sure what was weirder -- the oddball name and her awkward mannerisms; or the fact that she was traveling with a statue, a plant, and a stuffed animal…..  Surely he was dreaming?   Or maybe Harrow had slipped him some of the refined silt and bonemeal that the wytches used on coffin day?  That was the only explanation that made any sense of the situation.  And if that was the case, there was nothing that he could do other than to ride it out.

 

“Okay. Batcat, is it? He choked back a giggle at the absurdity of what his subconscious had come up with . A stuffed cat? (Stuffed? She didn’t say she was stuffed -- how did he know that?) “What, exactly do we have to talk about?”

 

Batcat’s ears twitched rapidly in what he assumed to be an excited manner.  Notably, her companions sat completely still unless they were spoken to -- not unlike the inanimate objects they appeared to be.

 

“A lot, actually. Here - let’s get you in a more comfortable chair.” Batcat waved her arms, and Slade’s bed disappeared. In its place, was a chair in the same style as Batcat’s couch, but in a deep blue color.  Slade shook his head, taken aback at the fact that he was now perched on this somewhat bouncy chair, fully clothed-- but not in his clothes.  The pants were strange, some sort of dark blue material, and the shirt was thin, with short sleeves, and his hosts face was plastered across the chest.

 

“Better? I almost thought of giving you the Iron Throne, but… let's face it. The reference would be lost on you. Ahem!!”   Clearing her throat, the small cat motioned to the fox next to her. The fox handed her a scroll that unfurled itself across the floor, the end coming to a stop just before it hit Slade’s feet.   Apparently, Batcat had a lot to say.

 

“Lieutenant Slade, the Council -- _don’t look at me like that. Not THAT Council --_ has come here today to air our grievances.  We’ve been watching you, and quite frankly, we’re very disappointed.  We came here today with--”

 

“Listen, Kitty…. Could you just spit it out already, no need to sugar coat it. And, uh, from the looks of that list-- we need all the time we can get.”  He rolled his eyes, and situated himself back into the chair.  If he was stuck riding out this hallucination -- he may as well make the best of it.

 

“Yoooou got it, “ she said, with an exaggerated wink. Mumbling to herself, and sliding her paw down the list, she came to a stop about midway, conferred with her compatriots, and looked across the room at Slade.

 

“You’re kind of an asshole. And… we’d like you to stop.”

 

Slade laughed. “You would, would you? What’s the rest of the list?”

 

Batcat blinked. “That’s it.”

 

Slade furrowed his brow, and bent down to pick up the list. Twisting it around so he could see the front, he frowned. There wasn’t any writing on the list.  Just brightly colored, crudely drawn images of Batcat and her small group of friends all over the page. Before he could comment however, the paper disappeared in a glittery poof, and Batcat was glaring at him, her small black eyes sparking.

 

“It’s a hobby. MY FANS LOVE IT. I -- SashIMI!! THERE you are- we’ve been looking all over for you! Where- I.. no. What?   Me?!   What do you mean, I’m yelling too much? I am the PINNACLE OF CALM RIGHT NOW.”

 

Batcat was not, in fact, the Pinnacle of Calm that she claimed to be. But neither Fox, Leaf, nor Sashimi -- who had apparently been sitting in the northwest corner of the room for God knows what reason -- pointed out. Neither did Slade, who was still very confused at this vision that the wytch’s drugs were giving him.  Surely this wasn’t normal, right?

 

“HEY.. Dinner Plate.  Ahh, yess, you there with the confused look on your face. Did you come back to us here on Planet Earth? Good. Back to the current conversation. We think you’re an asshole. And, so does the Rover Council. And, quite frankly, we think your survival depends on changing this fact. Sooooo… “

 

Batcat accentuated the end of her sentence by leaning forward and gesturing with her arms, urging Slade to speak. What she wanted, he wasn’t quite sure.

 

“So… what, you’re here to make me change my ways? And how does the Council even factor into this? If you haven’t noticed, I’m a little bound by a certain Conquest noble at the moment… The opinions of the Council mean little to me.”

 

The sigh Batcat -- and seemingly her entire entourage -- let out was deafening. She let her head hang for a few full seconds before meeting his gaze again.

 

“FIRST of all, you’re not bound by Joelene. You’re bound by the narrative, but we can revisit that later. The Council _shoudl_ matter to you. They’re the ones with the power here… and a lot of them don’t like you.  I mean, dude, you tried to kill Leah. AND Jonah.” Batcat shook her head, and her companions followed suit. “Tsk tsk tsk, Slade. Innocent children.”

 

“I -- “ Slade was more than a little taken aback.  How did she know all this? And why did she think the Council could affect him at all? They certainly hadn’t in the past…. And narrative?    “Since you seem to know so much, Cat, I’m sure you know the reason I did all that. What’s two lives, in exchange for preventing a war? Two deaths, to prevent countless others. Hardly an “asshole” move, I think.”

 

Batcat looked thoughtful, and nodded.  “Right. I guess you’re right. And I’m sure your wife and kids would totally understand you killing off two kids -- AND an entire Compound full of families so they could live. Why don’t we call the--”

 

She didn’t have time to finish her sentence. Slade had leapt from his chair, retrieved his blade from where it sat near his bed, and in one swift motion, had it held up to the chin of the small fox plush. If timed right, one swift slice, and he could put them all - and by proxy, him - out of his misery.

 

Batcat tutted again, and just started to laugh. “Go on! Do it! Let’s see some bloodshed!!!”

 

“Slade glared back at the tiny cat, who was giggling, and eating from her popcorn bucket again. (Wait. Wasn’t that empty just a second ago?)   “You think I won’t?”

 

Batcat clapped her paws (Or tried to. Her arms were a little short, which helped contribute to the popcorn that was beginning to cover the floor of his room. “Please do!!  I wonder if he’ll bleed glitter!!”

 

Without hesitation, Slade moved his blade in a slicing motion against Fox’s throat, deciding to spare the rest for now.  However, he didn’t get rewarded with blood, cotton, or even the aforementioned glitter.  Instead, he heard a strange _thwacking_ sound, and Batcat’s glee only increased.

 

Infuriated, he tore his gaze from Batcat, and focused on his blade.

 

His now, bright pink, glittery, decidedly-not-bladelike blade lay against the foxes throat, softly bobbing as the fox bopped it with its nose. He jerked it back to examine it, watching the end of it lazily flop from side to side.

 

“What did you do to my blade?? You silt sucking piece of--”

 

Batcat pouted, and shook her head.

 

“I think it’s a vast improvement. I mean, you can’t exactly go swimming with a blade, can you?”  Slade just glared, not comprehending.  “Also, this floats!!  You straddle it in the pool -- or ocean, even. Whatever floats your boat. And, well, you! Because--- that’s what it does! It floats!!!”  She dissolved into giggles, not even pretending to wait for a reply.  Just as quickly, she gasped, and started waving her arms again -- as if to silence everyone in the room.

 

“WAIT. Let’s try something. What did you call me?”

 

Slade grimaced. “A silt eating piece of --”

 

Batcat shook her head so violently her bow threatened to come off.  “Nope.  That just won’t do. “  Whispering to the silver statue to her left, they conferred for a moment, and both nodded.

 

“Lieutenant Slade,” she started, “ I would like you to say _damn.”_

 

“Fine. Silt.”  He rolled his eyes, annoyed at the simple request.

 

“Noooo, damn. I said, say ‘damn’.”

 

“And I did. You said, “say silt,” and  that’s what I said! Silt! Now are we done?”

 

Batcat raised a nonexistent eyebrow. “No. What aboooout, shit?”

 

“Silt.”

 

“Ooookay, hell?”

 

“ _Silt.”_

 

“Ass?”

 

“SILT. Is this really necessary? Because, it may not be a blade, but I’m very close to being the first person in Apocalypse to kill someone with a… noodle-thing.” Slade felt a pang of loss as he looked at his former blade. He had to admit, his threats weren't as effective without it.

 

“Fu-- no. This is a lost cause isn’t it?”  Leaf shook its leaves it what must have been agreement, because the interrogation ended.  “Slade, look. Don’t feel bad. This isn’t your fault. You can hardly be blamed for your actions. It all goes back to the narrative. And Bloodworth’s got it all set up so that-”

 

“Bloodworth?” The name fell off Slade’s lips with as much disdain as he could muster.  “Who is that? Another one of you wytches?  No thanks. Harrow and Lillie are keeping me quite busy enough, the last thing I need is another wytch to deal with..”

 

Batcat grinned. “No, he’s the creator. And yup. You’re right. You certainly won’t be meeting any more wytches. Nope! None of those! _Leaf, will you stop looking at me like that? I am not going to tell him about her.”_ Batcat leaned across the couch, and hissed the last part of her sentence at the plant, who seemed to shrink back in guilt.

 

“The Creator? Sorry folks, I’m not really the religious type. But, I do thank you for your concern. Is there any point to this exchange? Or did you just want to show up to call me an “asshole,” or whatever that is?”

 

Sashimi made some sort of a squeaking noise, but Batcat waved him off. “Yeah, I know. He said it that time. No, it DOESN’T make any sense. But does any of the rest of this?” She shot Slade the briefest sympathetic look before continuing.

 

“Look. We get it. But quite frankly, my dude, we have a problem. Well, no, you have a problem.  Half the council thinks you’re a jerk, and want to drink your tears from a flask. The other, the Nightlight folks, well; they cry about you and your kids pretty much every week. They get it, the others just want to see you burn. And that’s a VERY dangerous place for you  to be in. “ Batcat had her hands spread like she was weighing his options-- none of which made any sense to him.  “On the other hand, they all spend waaaay too much time calling you Daddy. So you could always try and work thaaaat angle to stay alive, but quite honestly that’s not something I quite understand..”

 

Slade furrowed his brows, missing the insinuation entirely. “The Rover Council aren’t my children.  My children, live in -”

 

“The Province of War, we know we know. We _are_ Patreon supporters after all. Buuuut, you’re a little mistaken. I mean. Ata, Haley and Tina are technically all members of the Council, and when they found out they got to be your kids? Oh holy bagel, that was a fun week. You’d think someone had given them a pony.” Batcat eyed Slade, who only looked more and more confused. “You…. aren’t getting any of this, are you, buddy?”

 

Batcat hopped off the couch, and shuffled up to where he stood, still completely dumbfounded. She motioned for him to come down to her level.   Still perplexed, he squatted down, resting his hands on his knees.   

 

“Listen, Pops. You’re beyond our help. I feel for ya, really. But you’re just…. “ She shook her head, and patted his cheek with a paw.  “I gotta get home. Keyboards need danced on, and if I don’t meet my quota at Boothworld, they won’t make me Employee of the Year, and I don’t get my rainbow sno-cone. So, here’s what you gotta do. Ditch these bozos in death, and go buy your kids a pony. Give the dedlif kid your sword, and learn how to bake cupcakes. Capisce?”

 

Slade again, just shook his head.  “Ca-what? And what the silt is a cupcake? I haven’t understood a silting thing you’ve said… other than “wytch,” and the fact that you know entirely too much about my kids. And hallucination or not, I’m not sure I can let that slide.”

 

Slade kept ranting, turning away from her to look for his weapon, but Batcat wasn’t listening. She motioned for her group to pack up, and just like that, everything was gone. The couch, the chair, the popcorn and glitter -- all like it had never existed.

 

“Can’t say we didn’t try now, can we guys?” All three nodded, or made some form of movement to signal their approval, and began to move towards the door.

 

“Just ooooone more thing.”

 

Slade stopped searching the room for his blade, and out of mild curiosity turned to face the little cat. Maybe if she said this one thing, this would all be over and he’d wake up.  “What?”

 

“AiiiieeeeEEEEEEEEEE!” Batcat let out the loudest, most shrill shriek that Slade had ever heard, and grabbed her bow from her head.  Before he could process what was happening, she’d launched it towards him, boomerang style. It connected squarely with his crotch, bringing the man to his knees in seconds.

 

"THAT was for..  Ah, heck. I dunno, but it was fun, right?!  Byeeee! Have a _marvelous_ day!!"

 

He didn’t even see the foursome as they bolted for the door, giggling and singing some nonsense song as they followed Batcat swiftly out of the door, and straight out of the narrative. (And what a ridiculous narrative it was…)

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you're all enjoying #punchsladeinthedick2017 !


End file.
